


Teresa Takes Charge

by Entwife_Incognito



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Humor, Partnership, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 11:40:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8160904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entwife_Incognito/pseuds/Entwife_Incognito
Summary: The bullpen couch is fine for a little nap. But you know how guys wake up after a deep sleep! Teresa Lisbon knows what's going on and just what to do about it. Just a little one-shot romp about two people who already know how they feel about each other. They just haven't said. Maybe the team is a little OOC in the extreme situation. AU-Red John is already dead! Hope it's fun! Disclaimer: I don't own anything about The Mentalist.This is the first fan fiction I ever wrote, originally posted on FFnet April 20, 2013. I've made some refining edits to post it here, hopefully improving the story's readability.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Did I mention this is the first fan fiction I ever wrote? ;-) I did a little editing before posting here. It doesn't change the story, but I hope it improves the read. Also, I'm not experienced with rating for content here, so I may not judge properly yet.

Teresa Lisbon was tired of waiting for Patrick Jane to make his feelings known to her. She knew he loved her. He knew she knew. And she knew that he knew she loved him in return. Thinking about it would make anyone's head hurt. All the delay was totally Jane's doing. Chasing Red John. Well, Red John was in the ground now. What was the hold up?

Lisbon came out of her office to the bullpen where the rest of the team had their desks. She stopped short of entering the room. What was going on? The whole team was red-faced and looking at, then away, from what? She walked into the room. They were sniggering at Jane who was asleep on his couch. He was on his back, muttering a little. Damn! He had fallen deeply asleep for the third day in a row. His insomnia must be really bad again.

As she approached Jane, the others snapped their attention away, looking at their desks. Van Pelt was beet red and had her hand to her face. Rigsby was nearly as red, looking at his hands, smirking and shaking his head. Lisbon heard him say quietly, "Dude. Dude." Cho was staring rigidly ahead, shaking in mirth, tears actually running down his face! What the hell?

When she moved closer to Jane, she realized at once why her team was totally unwound. At first glance Jane had his hands in his lap and was wiggling as people may during a dream. Looking closer, Lisbon saw that Jane appeared to have a grip on his, well, privates. Not a full wrap, thank God. If it wasn't for the placement of his hands, a casual observer might think Jane was only stretching his hips in his sleep. But, the unintelligible muttering and slightly breathy moaning . . . Good God! This was too much! She blushed immediately, thoroughly embarrassed.

"Hey! Jane!" Lisbon used her command voice, but Jane did not wake. She moved closer, turned her head away from him, shook his shoulder and yelled, "Jane!"

Patrick Jane's whole body jerked as he woke abruptly. He looked blearily at the boss. "Lisbon? We caught a case?"

Lisbon frowned and rolled her eyes pointedly towards his hands twice, hoping he would realize his posture.

The third time proved the charm and Jane said, "Oh!" and removed his hand instantly. He smiled sheepishly and had the decency to muster a pale blush. When he saw that his arousal was evident, Jane reached back and grabbed the throw behind him to cover the offending area. "Uh. Sorry. Sweet dreams."

The rest of the team was laughing out loud now. Van Pelt added drama by yelling in a falsetto voice, "My eyes! My eyes!" The others broke into near-hysteria.

Lisbon was steamed. "What are we running here, a junior high school? Everybody back to work. That's enough. Show's over. Jane. With me. With me. With me. Now."

"Uh. Lisbon. Give me a minute, okay?" He honestly didn't want to make things worse by standing up in his condition. Her tone only added to his heat. He loved when she got all authoritarian with him.

"Jesus, Jane!" Lisbon said in a forced whisper and stomped out of the bullpen to her office as the rest of the team completely broke down in laughter. "Hush! Now!" She entered her domain to the choking of their clamped-down laughter and immediately began closing the blinds to create the privacy that would be needed. Another situation with Jane. At least this wouldn't make the papers or flood her desk with complaints. Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt were having too much fun with it to complain. Well, she was going to enjoy putting the screws to Patrick Jane. Enough of this farce!

Lisbon heard a light tapping at her door. Turning, she saw it was Jane and waved him in.

He started for her couch.

"Shut the door."

Turning, he did as she asked and headed for the couch again.

"And sit in a chair."

Jane stopped and pivoted to a chair in front of her desk. He wagged his head from side to side, mimicking her tone in his mind. Okay. This was going to be unpleasant. He grimaced in anticipation. Seating himself, he waited quietly while Lisbon stretched out the time and let him sweat it.

Finally she looked up and stared at him a moment. "What were you thinking?"

"Well. I'm sorry, Lisbon. I wasn't thinking. I fell asleep. It's no big deal. We're all adults. We've all been there." Try to elicit her empathy, remind her of their common experiences as fellow human beings.

"That doesn't make me feel better, Jane. And never in my entire career have I 'been there' on the job or at the office. Nor have I seen anyone else 'there.'"

Jane released a sigh that really wanted to be a groan. Well, it was worth the try.

“Jane. You have to start getting some regular sleep at night. You can't be falling so deep asleep on that couch that you're, well, completely unconscious of your actions."

"Well, thank you for recognizing that, Lisbon. I was not conscious of my actions."

"Of course you weren't, Jane. I know you better than that. But look. You were this far from a wet dream while we all watched." She indicated a tiny distance with her thumb and index finger.

Tell. Jane smirked, though he was touched by her emerging sympathy for him. Lisbon was a decent, caring woman. And she was going to let him off easy after all. He tried for humor. "It's bigger than that, Lisbon."

"What? Oh, my god! Jane. That is so inappropriate." Lisbon was not smiling.

Jane groaned a little under his breath that his joke had fallen flat, and muttered, "Oh. Yep. Yep." To Lisbon, he said, "Sorry. Just trying to diffuse the tension." He paused, waiting for Lisbon to continue. When she didn't, he wheedled, "You wanted to talk about it. Don't you want to know about my dream, Lisbon?"

"Hell, no. I don't want to know about that."

"I don't believe you. Of course you do. Who doesn't want to know about other people's sex lives, huh?" Jane smiled wanly.

Lisbon snorted. "That's your sex life? Wet dreams on the bullpen couch?"

"Ouch, Lisbon. Ouch. That's not what I meant."

Lisbon was really enjoying that Jane was on the defensive and trying to work his way out by distractions and tricks. She'd call him on it. "Okay. Tell me your dream." She swept an arm towards him in invitation.

Caught! Well, that's what he got for improving her poker game. "Forget it. It's no fun, now."

"Oh. You're getting your chops busted now, so it's not so funny. Ho ho! Dish it out. Can't take it. I see." Lisbon smiled at her small triumph.

"Okay. You really want to talk about this?"

"No. Actually, I've lost interest. Anyway, you think I actually don't know?" Tables. Turned.

Patrick was startled and shifted in his chair. Lisbon was upping the ante. She was untying the bag that had the cat in it. "Oh. You're the psychic now?"

"Doesn't take a psychic, Jane." Lisbon took a deep breath. How far could she take this? She didn't know, herself. "How long have we known each other, ten years now? Working together nearly every night and day? Saving each other's lives? Looking out for each other? Learning how to be real partners to each other? You say yourself that you have no other life. You're a healthy man, Jane. Doesn't take a psychic to know who you dream about that, that gets you, uh, that way."

Jane was very quiet now. She had him. His heart was racing and he felt very warm. His love for Lisbon kept him up every night. Physically he warred against his attraction, knowing it would only increase his craving for her. Teasing and banter helped diffuse it enough to manage their working relationship. If he could keep her irritated with him, so much the better. It would keep them apart. But why? Now, that Red John was dead? He knew he felt fear, but fear of what? At that point, he always made himself think of something else.

“Don’t go there, Lisbon.” Just making the request admitted what they both knew. The real war was his reluctance, no, fear, to declare himself versus his strong, sometimes overwhelming, drive to do just that. He looked at the nervous fingers in his lap.

“Partners talk about the important things,” Lisbon said softly. “Even when it’s hard. Or embarrassing.” She pulled her chair out from the desk and sat down in front of her partner. “Even when it causes changes we don’t think we can handle.”

Deep down, Jane’s façade failed him. His fear was superstition now . . . illogical. But it still gripped him, felt safe. But it wasn't safe if it drove her away for good. Keeping Lisbon distant kept him from failing her somehow, ruining her life with the imperfections . . . the arrogance . . . that plagued him and killed his family. But Lisbon saw through his fear and doubt. He looked at her, those green eyes that called him deep into the forest. Falling for his own con; but she wasn’t.

“Jane.”

“Wait, Lisbon . . . we should—“

“It can’t wait anymore.”

Did he really want to change his life that much? It didn’t matter what he wanted. If he fell asleep, he awoke shortly in a fever, in the same condition, or worse, as on the bullpen couch just then. How long did he expect her to wait? Why did he want to wait? His indecision and silence were wrecking him and certainly not fooling Lisbon anymore. It was her life, too. And now, she was doing and saying what she wanted.

“But not here, perhaps.” Lisbon watched Jane's face as his thoughts flowed across it like a river of shadow and light. Work, her office, was not the place for this conversation. "It's all right, Jane. We can talk about it later. Now go home. And get some sleep! I’ll see you after I finish here."

Jane stood up. He looked into Lisbon's beautiful green eyes. "Lisbon. You're right. Every word you say is true. You know why I haven’t—“

“I do know. We’ll protect each other, help each other, get better together. Partners, remember? It’s not all your job. It’s not all my job. Can we agree on that much?”

“I . . . I don’t know if I can live up to that. Maybe. I can try. The thing is . . ." He shut his eyes and made his throat open to say the words. "I'm your man, Lisbon . . . or I want to be."

His struggle touched her heart. "I know. And I'm your woman. It’s time. Truth between us will make things better. Maybe not easier, but . . . I'm ready for you." She returned his now steady gaze.

Jane leaned over her desk and Lisbon leaned forward to meet him. He cupped the side of her head, fingers in her hair, and drew her cheek to his lips where he pressed a kiss. Stepping back, he said, "I'll see you later tonight, Lisbon. Teresa."

"My place or yours . . . Patrick?" His name was hushed on her breath as she tried it out, smiling when his eyes dilated and cheeks flared. Pink was very becoming on him.

"Mine. Not much, but it’s my little nest and I need it just now."

"Okay." Now it was her turn to blush. "You might not be getting much sleep again tonight."

"Ah. But not for the same reasons.” He stood, shifting his feet before he spoke, and finally a smile on his lips. “I do love you, Teresa."

"And I love you, Patrick. I think we should have a life."

Their smiles were silent, and Patrick took his leave, the weight of his indecision lifted and the weightlessness of love filling his soul.


End file.
